


The Birds Still Sing

by FeelsForBreakfast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, HS AU, M/M, Self Harm, nothing overly melodramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsForBreakfast/pseuds/FeelsForBreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Louis thinks he already knows Harry's secret. He just doesn't know how to tell him he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birds Still Sing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt by reallyhardtoreach: can you do a os where harry self harms and louis finds out but there's no big fuss?like, not one where lou finds him sitting in the bathroom with a razor,just something simple. smutty ending maybe? much love
> 
> Hope you like it, I didn't manage a smutty ending, but you know I'm a sap. (:  
> I'm accepting prompts over on my blog if you have something you want to get written  
> 

Louis has been putting off noticing for a while now, but it’s impossible not to considering that he practically lives in Harry’s pockets. The thing is, Harry never used to cover his body. When he was small and soft and Louis was still able to pick him up he never could be arsed to put on clothes, but high school made him different.

They’re changing out of their swim trunks after being at the beach all afternoon and Harry has his back turned as he pulls his bright blue shorts up his thighs. They’ve been dating for 8 months and Louis still hasn’t seen him naked yet. It’s not a problem, Louis can wait, it’s just that after a while it started to seem deliberate.

Louis sneaks up behind him just as he’s doing his fly up, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, pressing his chest up against Harry’s back. He knows his body, learned it through tickle fights when they didn’t know what their feelings meant, committed it to memory that first time they kissed on Harry’s bed, tentative fingers and broken breaths. 

“Harry?” He stills underneath Louis’ touch, goosebumps raising on his summer tan arms as Louis presses his fingers into the divots between Harry’s ribs. 

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Harry nods, tilting his head back so it’s resting against Louis’ cheek. “Of course.” He slides his hands over Louis’, covering up his fingers and pressing them harder against his chest. “I love you too.”

Louis leans to kiss the soft skin of Harry’s neck, smiling into it when Harry tips his head back so Louis can get a better angle. He’s always been so pliant, even after he shot up like a weed and finally grew into his awkward limbs. Even though Harry looks older and broader, Louis thinks he’s always going to be taking care of him, that’s just how they are.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Louis whispers against his skin like maybe it’ll stick there.

Harry giggles, leaning back against Louis like he’s eleven again and they’re out behind Louis’ house catching fireflies in their grimy hands. “Could you say that again, I didn’t quite hear you.”

Louis bites Harry’s collarbone until he yelps. “I’m trying to be cute. Why can’t you ever let me be cute?”

Harry rubs his hand over the bite mark, scowling in a way that reminds Louis a little bit of an angry kitten. “I let you be cute all the time. You spend about ninety percent of your time trying to be cute.”

“I spend ninety percent of my time succeeding at being cute.” Louis corrects, spinning Harry around and pecking him on the lips. He threads his hands up around Harry’s neck, pulling him down so their foreheads touch.

Harry kisses him clumsily, sliding warm hands up his back, fingers catching on his shoulderblades and the ridge of his spine. “Shut up.”

Louis catches Harry’s bottom lip in his teeth, biting it until it goes pink. “Give me a reason to.”

“You’re a brat.” Harry says, dipping his head against Louis’ neck like he thinks Louis can’t tell that he’s just breathing him in. Louis reaches up to card his fingers through Harry’s curls, untangling them. Harry smells like sunscreen and the ocean, and Louis can feel the salt in his nearly dry hair.

The evening breeze creeps in through the open windows, Harry’s curtains shifting in the low light, and everything suddenly seems so warm. Louis is filled with crushed velvet instead of organs and Harry’s mouth is gentle when he presses kisses to Louis’ shoulder.

Louis walks them backwards until Harry bumps against the foot of his bed. “Lay down.”

Harry pauses for a moment, looking up at Louis like he’s gotten lost somewhere, so Louis pushes him down by his shoulders with careful hands, letting him find his way back again. He pushes Harry’s legs apart so he can stand between them, running his fingers down Harry’s cheekbones, dipping them into the curves of his collarbones and down his chest.

Harry smiles up at him, laying down on the quilt and pulling Louis in with lazy hands. Harry scoots up the bed so his head is resting on the pillows, Louis sitting between his knees. He rests his hands on the buttons of Harry’s pants, nimble fingers worrying at the tie.

Harry shakes his head, taking Louis’ hands in his and pushing them away. 

“Why?” Louis asks, pulling his hands from Harry’s grip, crossing his arms across his chest like a child. He thinks he knows, has for a while, but doesn’t want to believe it.

Harry just frowns for a long moment. “I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

Louis pouts, running his hands down Harry’s sides, indulging in the way his muscles tense when he brushes ticklish places. “I’m not going to do that. You trust me don’t you?”

Harry nods, biting at his nails and staring up at Louis like he’s a wave about to crash down.

“I already know.” Louis says quietly. “I already know about it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry says, covering up his chest with his big hands like he’s eight again, like the day he fell through the ice on the lake and he stood in Louis’ front room wrapped in a blanket until they could find a better way to warm him up. He’s still afraid of skating out on the pond, thinks he’s going to fall in.

“I don’t know.” Louis closes his eyes, inhales, opens them as he pushes the air back out of his mouth. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you.”

Harry nods, a barely there laugh falling from his lips. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you either.”

Louis puts his fingers back on Harry’s waistband, and Harry lets him, deflating as Louis undoes the button and pulls his pants down his thighs and off his ankles. Harry lays there in his navy boxers, looking so fragile Louis is afraid that if he touches him he’ll break. 

Louis can see the cuts now, what he’s been trying to hide for longer than Louis knows, the way they show in sharp relief against his skin.

“How long?” Louis asks, noticing the way some of them are sharp and angry like the hurt hasn’t healed yet and some of them are so old they’re barely even scars anymore, just ghosts of old pain. 

“A while.” Harry says, and he won’t stop shivering, his face towards the wall so he doesn’t have to look at Louis. 

“Before or after we started dating?” Louis asks, running the pads of his fingers down the ruined skin of his thighs. He can only speak in broken questions now, Harry’s scars making his brain wrong, making it hard to think.

Harry doesn’t answer for a long moment, his fingers tangling on his stomach. “Before.”

Louis nods. “Open your eyes.”

Harry does slowly, blinking like he’s resurfacing. “I’m sorry.”

Louis shakes his head. “Don’t apologize to me.” He runs his hands up through disheveled hair. “If I asked you to stop, could you?”

He waits a moment before answering. “I don’t know. I think so. Maybe.”

Louis leans down, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead to try and smooth the wrinkles out. He can fix this. He can fix Harry. “Where do you keep your blades?”

Harry stills. “Why?”

“Because I’m taking them.” Louis says, standing up and walking towards Harry’s desk, rummaging around until he finds an envelope bent underneath a box of mechanical pencils. 

Harry sits up slowly. “Bottom drawer. In the tea tin.” 

Louis opens the drawer, finding the Earl Gray container pushed to the back. He opens it, finding three sharp razors inside. They make his skin tingle, make him nervous and sad and he doesn’t want Harry to ever feel like he has to cut himself open. “Why did you do it?” He asks as he pours them into the envelope, sealing it with a lick.

Harry shrugs. “It’s a habit at this point. I used to get...” He trails off, looking down at his hands. Louis walks back over to him, petting his curls down. “Lonely.”

“You should have come to me.” Louis says quietly, because he’s always been there, even if Harry forgot, or never knew in the first place. 

“I don’t want to be someone’s burden.” Harry replies, burying his face in Louis’ chest, warm breath against his skin. 

“You’re allowed to be my burden.” Louis says, because Harry has always been his person, the one that means everything. He remembers, when he was thirteen and first figured out he liked boys and Harry was the first person he told, in awkward stuttering sentences that came tripping out of his mouth. He remembers when he was nine and they went camping and the wolves howled so loudly they thought they’d be eaten up so they held each other’s hands even though they thought they were too old to be afraid. “You’re my burden whether you want to be or not.”

“I know.” Harry mumbles, reaching up and taking Louis’ hand. “Please just, don’t make this a big deal. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I don’t want you to treat me any differently.”

Louis shakes his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “Nothing could make me treat you differently. I just worry.”

Harry nods, smiling up at Louis likes he’s trying on the expression for the first time. “Thanks for not being weird about it.”

Louis gets down on his knees so he’s at Harry’s eye level, so he has to tilt his chin up to catch his gaze. “I just want you to be okay and I want you to tell me if you aren’t.”

“I’m okay right now.” Harry says quietly. “I’m okay when I’m with you.”

Louis smiles, cupping Harry’s face in his hands. “You’re the most important thing to me, you know that, right? If you need me I’ll always be there for you. I’ll be anything you need.”

Harry nods, the smile finally reaching his eyes. “I know. I just forget sometimes.”

Louis leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of his right thigh and then the left. He likes the way it makes Harry go so still beneath him, like he’s frozen in time for just a moment. “Well don’t forget.”

The summer when Harry was six they roller bladed up and down the street like savages, sunburned cheeks stretched up into smiles and hair flying. It was late afternoon the day Harry fell and skinned his knees so hard they bled rivers of red down his legs, and Louis remembers sitting with him until his mom could come with bandages, telling him he was going to be fine and wiping the tears off his cheeks with tiny hands.

This is like that, because he even though he can’t erase the scars and he can’t stop Harry from hurting himself, he’ll sit with him for as long as it takes. 

It’s always going to be like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated (:


End file.
